


Five Times Cullen Failed to Propose and One Time He Didn't

by Satine86



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mild Angst, Post-Game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2729633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Satine86/pseuds/Satine86
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title pretty much says it all, contains spoilers for the end of the game and the Cullen romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Cullen Failed to Propose and One Time He Didn't

I.

The first time he thought about it was after the Well of Sorrows. Corypheus was more than they had imagined, more than they had feared. There had been much confusion and worry, the Inquisitor nowhere to be found, but then she turned up back Skyhold, safe and unharmed. He had felt such a sense of relief his knees had been weak. He'd known he loved her, had loved her for longer than he should admit, but now he knew exactly how much. It was terrifying, but also wonderful. He had thought the words then, so simple and yet not: will you marry me?

He didn't say them, of course, there were more important matters to deal with. Like preparing to take on Corypheus, and saving the world. It wasn't the time to think about a life together, after all this. Who knew if either of them would make it out alive? What if they did though? What if there came a time when they could settle down. He'd never once imagined such a life, himself a husband. A father. But the possibility of it now, with her... was pleasing. 

“Cullen?” her voice was soft, holding a hint of concern. He shook himself and met her eyes.

“Yes?”

“Are you alright?” He marveled that she could find it herself to worry about him at this time. He was insignificant in comparison to the ordeal before her. 

“I'm fine, only thinking,” he said and hoped she didn't press the issue. He would wait, swallow down that question, and wait. 

 

II.

The second time he thought about it, he was standing on the steps of Skyhold. She was alive. She had won and she was alive. When she returned to Skyhold, she looked exhausted but pleased, greeting the well wishers, her entourage trailing her like the heroes they were. He had wanted to fall to his knees and thank the Maker for returning her to him. Or perhaps it really been luck? Either way his heart soared at the sight of her ascending the staircase. 

The fear and sense of dread that had gripped him the moment she walked away to face Corypheus had been thick, oppressive, weighing down on him like his guilt and anger had for so many years. But it was gone now, it was all gone. She was alive. His mind was reeling, his joy palpable. 

Leliana and Josephine bowed, and he barely managed to follow suit, he was so lost in his thoughts. As the crowd cheered louder, he stepped forward and embraced her, it was the only thing he could do. It was a simple gesture meant to welcome her back, to assure himself she truly was safe and there. It was also to keep from saying those words, those simple, terrifying words. He knew it wasn't the time or place. Besides, there was no certainty she would even say yes.

 

III.

Surprisingly, or not, given how much he'd been pondering it since the thought first crept into his mind, the third time came only a few hours later. The celebrations were fully underway and she was sneaking off to her chambers, no one dared stop her, knowing full well how deserving she was of the peace and quiet.

Well, no one save himself. Though the way her eyes lit up, he dared to assume she didn't mind. Welcomed it even. In her chambers it was eerily quiet, and his nerves started to get the better of him. He wanted so badly to tell her exactly what she meant to him, not as a savior...though she was that. Not as the Inquisitor or the Herald of Andraste but as herself. As the woman he loved more than anyone else in the world. 

Unfortunately he wasn't good with words, had no poetic bone in his body. 

"I don't know what happens after this," he found himself saying. Then she slipped out reach and walked away. For a brief moment he thought she might end it, tell him to leave, but she was peaceful, content. So he followed her to the balcony. 

"Neither do I," she said. He wrapped his arms around her and swallowed those word again, it was a good moment, but not the right one. Not for that.

 

IV.

The fourth time was less peaceful. He was fitful, his dreams full of fear and abominations, the vision of so many innocents dead. So many endless horrors. The images tore at his dreams, his mind, wanting to take away who he was. No, he was Cullen, Commander of the Inquisition...he had done wrong but he had tried to atone. He was a better man now. He was better!

He awoke abruptly with a sharp intake of air. Trying to shake off the dreams, his mind started to clear and he calmed. Their bed was warm and the drapes were pulled shut, but he could still tell it was the middle of the night. Even in the darkness he could see her eyes worriedly searching his face, her hand on his chest, soothing. 

She had her own nightmares, her own fear and pain to work through in the weeks following the end of the war, and yet here she was taking care of him. He thought he was too damaged for her. He did not deserve her, but he would be damned if he let her go now. He reached out and cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. She leaned into his hand, nuzzling.

"I'm alright," he mumbled after a moment, voice rough with sleep. 

"I just want you to find some peace." She reached up and smoothed his brow, her head tilted as she surveyed him, obviously still making her own judgment on his well being.

"I have found peace," he said with a smile.

He trailed his hand down her face, her neck, his eyes locked on her lips. With a gentle tug he pulled her forward and kissed her. She moaned into it and he rolled them, hovering over her and deepening the kiss. 

He wanted this, all of this, all of her. He wanted to ask her, but for all his want he was a coward. She could say no, after all. If she did, this would end, this blissful, wonderful thing. So he buried the question and he kissed her. 

 

V.

The fifth time came three months later. 

After the defeat of Corypheus, the world was still in upheaval, but it was getting better. There was still rebuilding to be done, decisions to be made, alliances to uphold. But life at Skyhold was not so bad. 

There was chaos, and changes, and loudness; the inner circle of the Inquisition was never known for it's tact or calmness, but he found he was used to it. To everyone. He was even starting to like Varric's nickname. 

The day was clear and cool, the air crisp and fresh as he stood on the battlements, gazing out on the mountains. He ran his fingers over his mouth, tracing his scar, bit his nails. Nerves were a terribly annoying thing, he decided. Though he wasn't certain how to banish them, try as he might. 

“Cullen?” He whirled around at the sound of her voice. She looked at him askance, sunlight glinting off her hair. “I heard you were looking for me?” 

“I was.” He nodded firmly and started pacing. “I wished to discuss something with you.”

Her eyes went wide and her breath left her in a whoosh. “If this is about rearranging your bookshelf, I swear I had nothing to do with it this time. It was all Sera.” 

“No, it's not about—wait, what?” He stopped and looked at her, brows furrowing. She gave him a toothy grin and stepped close, placing a hand on his chest.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Anyway, you wanted to talk?”

“I, uh, yes. I had the status report on the troops that you requested.” He cleared his throat awkwardly, watching in dismay as she sighed and stepped back, dropping her hand.

“Oh,” she breathed. “This is business, I thought perhaps it was a personal call.” 

“Well, you see, I did wish to speak with you about that as well.” He started rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, his other going to the ring that had been living in his pocket for too long. He tried to will his mind to calm, hoping his thoughts would solidify into something coherent. Maker, why was he always so tongue-tied?

He tried to get the words out, but they would not come. Instead he stuttered and fumbled and silently cursed himself a hundred times over. Finally he stopped and took a breath. 

“I'm sorry,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “I'm just preoccupied. Forgive me, you have meetings, I know. I've detained you far too long.”

“Cullen, it's fine. The meetings aren't until later, besides you know I'll always make time for you.” She stepped in close again and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look her in the face. She was beautiful and worried and he felt like an ass. “You do know that, right?” 

“Of course.” He smiled as best he could. “But I should go, I've paperwork and other things. I'll see you at dinner.” 

He brushed past her and all but fled from her sight. When he entered his chambers he scrubbed his hands down his face, and had to resist the urge to slap himself. “You are such a fool, Cullen.”

 

VI.

In the days following his atrocious attempt at conveying his feelings and trying to propose, he had completely given up on the matter. He was afraid she would say no, terrified it all would end, but the main thing that held him back was his own ineptness. There was no way for him to find the perfect moment, or the right words. And she deserved no less. 

He was alone with his thoughts, going over the duty roster, when a messenger entered with a quick knock. 

“Sir, I have a message for you from the Inquisitor.”

“Oh.” Cullen rose from his seat and took the message. He looked at the folded note a moment before he realized the messenger was still there. “Thank you. You're dismissed.”

“Sir!” She saluted before disappearing the way she'd came. 

Cullen continue to stare at the note, almost wary. She rarely sent for him, usually she just popped in whenever she had the time. And sometimes when she didn't. He unfolded it carefully, as if it might explode in his face. Inside he found a short note written in her neat penmanship: meet me in the gardens. 

Doing as requested, he made the journey to the gardens and found them rather empty. A curious thing. She was in the gazebo, a chess game set up. 

“Won't you join me?” she asked with a smile, sweeping her hand toward the empty chair across from her. “It's been ages since we've played, and I know you have a light workload today.”

“Your doing, I expect?” He laughed and sat down. 

“There are some perks to being the Inquisitor, might as well take advantage now and again.” She reached out and made the first move. “Do you remember our first game?” 

“Of course, how could I forget? I actually won.” 

She looked up from under a fan of lashes, “What if I let you win?” 

He laughed again. “Trying to protect my fragile ego?” 

“Perhaps I was just so smitten I forgot myself?” She smiled, shifting in her seat slightly, and Cullen was aware of her foot trailing up his shin. 

Moving one of the pieces on the board, he looked up at her. “If you're trying to distract me so I'll lose, it's not going to work.” 

She made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat and looked at the board, contemplating. They were silent for a while, each trying to gauge their plan of attack. 

“Do you remember the game of Wicked Grace?” she asked, finally breaking the silence. Cullen felt his face flush.

“Yes. Unfortunately.” 

“Do you know what your problem was? It wasn't so much that you misread Josephine's tells, but rather yours are so painfully obvious.” 

“They are?” He looked up at her, concerned. She, however, was amused.

“Well, to me at least. You're like an open book.” 

He frowned thoughtfully, glancing between her and the chess pieces. “Is this your way of telling me that I'm going to lose?” 

“It's my way of saying I know you better than you think I do.”

“Ahem, right.” He coughed nervously, and wondered what it was that she knew. His failed plans from the other day? Did she realize what a fool he was? He supposed that had only been a matter of time. His only hope was that perhaps she would find it endearing rather than annoying. 

“I'm not usually a patient person.” 

“I had gleaned that bit information a while ago, yes.” 

She nodded, still amused. “I've always been assertive, you know? But I feel like the Inquisition has made things worse, turned it into a compulsion really. If I want or need something, I have no problem taking it.” With those words she captured his knight.

He frowned. “Yes, I've become aware of that trait as well.” 

“So here's the problem, my love. You can be reserved, even shy, and I know sometimes you unsure of yourself. Most of the time it's adorable, endearing, and I love it about you. But in regards to this particular thing, it's getting very annoying.” 

“I'm.. what?” Cullen felt his blood run cold. She was unhappy and he wondered what he had missed, what he had ruined. 

Her eyes softened and she stood up. Stepping next to his chair, she shoved him back, throwing her leg over his lap to straddle him. Grabbing his face in both hands, she leaned in close enough for him to feel her breath tickling his chin. 

“Don't worry. I'm just saving us both a great deal of frustrated waiting.” 

“By doing what exactly?” 

“By saying, yes, I'll marry you.” 

He suddenly couldn't breathe, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Because what she had said was a good thing. A very, very good thing. He took in a shaky breath, looking up at her impossibly large eyes. 

“Y-you will?” 

“Yes.” She smiled, wide and carefree, and it felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest. Without really thinking about it, his arms locked around her waist, pulling her as close as possible. 

“But how did you know?”

“I told you, you're like an open book. Besides,” she leaned in closer still, her lips brushing his, voice tinged with barely suppressed laughter, “I found the ring in your pocket two weeks ago.” 

“How did you know it was for you?” he blurted, feeling a little indignant at having been found out. However foolish that might've been. She pulled back and looked at him, lips twitching.

“Do you have another woman on the side?” 

“I what? No, of course not! I only meant....”

“I know what you meant, you silly man.” She was laughing as she smoothed out the crease between his brows. “You're terrible at keeping secrets, and you're terrible at lying.”

“Ah, yes, well will you forgive me my flaws and allow me this?” He looked up at her, feeling more sure of himself.

“Of course,” she said, her eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled. Ever so carefully she untangled herself from him and stood up. Cullen followed suit, but quickly dropped to one knee, holding out the ring that had been heavy in his pocket for so long.

“My lady,” he started, keeping his voice soft. “Would you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?”

“Yes.” She laughed, light and carefree, before flinging herself at him and knocking him backward onto the flagstones of the gazebo. She barely gave him time to catch his breath before she kissed him.


End file.
